The Past and Pending
by RitaSkeeter222
Summary: Mid DH: Hermione is pulled away from Dobby and is left, alone and imprisoned, in the Malfoy Manor.  Draco, in the wake of Harry's escape, is left to watch his parents suffer Voldemort's wrath.
1. Chapter 1

"Malfoy?"

He turned his face away from her, concealing his eyes, ringed with dark circles and puffy from tears. He hadn't slept properly in days.

"Go away," Draco bit out, but her shadow lingered in the doorframe.

"Leave," it took all of his strength to keep his voice from cracking. He had Granger's pity. He was pathetic. He rolled gingerly on his side, his body sore from hours of torture, facing away from her. He heard her come closer and clenched his fists in anger.

"I know what it must feel like." She placed a hand on his shoulder. His reaction was immediate; he sat up and grabbed her wrist in one move.

"Really, you know what it's like, to watch your parents beg for forgiveness as their tortured to death?" He was shaking now. And so was she, he realized. She was terrified. Draco felt a surge of pleasure and shoved her away roughly.

She stumbled backwards and fell against the wall. He was surprised at how easily she fell. The thrill he'd felt from scaring her a minute ago was replaced instantly by shame. He turned away again, but Hermione didn't leave immediately. He heard her take a few breaths. "I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. He heard her walk outside and he bit his shirt so she wouldn't hear him cry.

Hermione rubbed her wrist tearfully and willed herself not to start sobbing. She stared out across the yard vigilantly, but tears kept blurring her vision. She wiped them angrily away. Now was not the time to break down. She needed a plan, she needed to keep perspective, she needed Ron, and Harry too.

If only Dobby had apparated a fraction of a second sooner, she would be with them now. But Greyback's grip had been so strong; she slipped away from her friends and Dobby. She sat in the prison for two days, waiting to be rescued or tortured again. But no one had come for her…no one except Greyback …and so the knife Bellatrix had thrown had hit its mark, she presumed.

When Voldemort came, from what she deduced, he'd tortured and killed most of the deatheaters as they'd let Harry and Ron get away. And Draco, after deciding he was done being a deatheater, snuck down to the cellar and apparated them away to god knows where.

They were in an abandoned house, a muggle house. They had been there for five days and she was beginning to lose sense of time. She had no idea what to do and no thoughts to distract her from the looming memory of Greyback's rough pawing, rank breath, or haunting features looming in the dank darkness of the Malfoy dungeons. She was lucky Voldemort ordered more than one deatheater to guard her and they didn't have much of tolerance for Greyback's abuse, or were too terrified of the consequences to allow it. Draco only wanted to be left alone and she didn't know how to contact any of the order. Sooner or later, they would be found. She sat at the kitchen table with borrowed pen and paper.

She wrote everything she knew about the Deathly Hallows, the Horcruxes and the clues Dumbledore had left them. She read over everything she'd written twice, repeated it back to herself and then burned the paper. She repeated it all again. It was comforting; she could have been studying for test. Then she wrote it all out again, hoping this would bring about an epiphany. A gut wrenching scream cut through the cold air. She froze. Adrenaline coursed through her body and her heart pounded against her ribcage. She shoved the paper into her pocket and crept slowly into the living room, where Malfoy was sleeping. He cried out again. She sank against the wall and a few tears of relief leaked down her cheeks. She made herself comfortable on a large chair across from Malfoy, watching him twitch and quiver, occasionally he would cry out again, usually when she approached the barrier between dream and reality, making it impossible to fall asleep. She stared out the window at the moon. It was full. She shivered as she thought again of Greyback.

For the next couple days, Malfoy's presence changed from menacing to almost comforting, though they rarely spoke, and his nightmares never ceased.

One morning, sleep-deprived and nervous, she suggested they move.

"Why?"

"For a change of scenery,"

Malfoy blinked at her. She rolled her eyes. "It's best not to stay in one place for too long."

"What kind of logic is that?"

"If we stay in one place, there's an easier chance of them finding us."

"We're safe here."

"Fine, do what you want, you have the wand."

She sat in the chair, grabbing an enchanted atlas that sat on the coffee table. She flipped it open. Australia. Fuck. She started to cry and he was coming. She wiped her face roughly and moved her hands away to reveal him, standing over her and looking at her in that infuriating way. Like he didn't know what to do with her. She burst into tears.

"I-I'm not cr-" she hiccupped, "crying because of you, it's the book," she gestured at the map of Australia as if it explained everything. Fuck. Maybe Granger really was insane. Draco just nodded and wished he hadn't followed her. He hated when girls cried, he never knew what to do with himself. He couldn't comfort her; he'd never even touched her, apart from third year when she slapped him and then apparating here. He patted her on the back softly, awkwardly, but that only seemed to make it worse. She was hysterical. He tried not to look disgusted as she blubbered and sniffled. He noticed her wrist was fully encircled by a nasty looking bruise. A fresh wave of sickening guilt overtook him.

"Maybe we should leave…" he tried amicably.

Hermione nodded. Draco suddenly lost his patience.

"For god's sake, Granger, pull yourself together. You're pathetic."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes blank with confusion and then cloudy with anger.

"How dare you, I've listened to you moan and complain all week, you even do it in your sleep, and for one moment, I-"

"Indulge in undeserved self-pity?"

"You have no idea what I've had to do, what I've seen, all thanks to you and you're boss-"

"The dark lord is not my 'boss' anymore,"

"'the dark lord is not my boss anymore'" Hermione repeated in a ridiculous voice which Draco could only assume was used in attempt to imitate him, he would have smirked but he was too angry. "Only his followers call him that Malfoy, so you better get used to calling him You-Know-Who."

"Regardless, I'm not-"

"How am I to believe that really? Who knows where your allegiances truly lie. I doubt even you know. The only reason you're here now, the only reason I'm alive, is because he killed your pare-"

"You think you've got me all figured out Granger, but you don't know anythi-"

"I know you're either completely evil or you're a coward."

"And you're insufferable, naïve, self-important-"

"Self-important? That's rich coming from you Mr. Purebloo-" he clamped his hand over her mouth, and she struggled until she caught the fear in his eyes and froze. He strained his ears, but there was nothing. He could have sworn he heard a voice. His throat was dry and he could feel Granger's pulse against his body.

After a minute, she twisted out of his grip. "I've put up protective spells," she muttered quietly, "we would have known if they were broken." Still, she snatched his wand from his grip and before he could protest, muttered "_Homenum Revelio_." She closed her eyes and opened them a moment later. "No one's here." She whispered, relief heavy in her voice. Draco shrugged off the embarrassment and supposed paranoia was a side-effect of being tortured.

"We should leave." Draco muttered nervously and Hermione smirked-he said it as if it had been his idea. They were still standing, frozen with residual fear.

"When?"

Draco shrugged, "now." He drew his wand from her fingers gently and took hold of her arm.

She might have felt a little better if he at least pretended to put some thought into things.

She pulled away. "Where will we go?"

"Blaise's neighborhood. His neighbors, a couple, they were mudbl-muggle-born and I know the neighborhood was just cleared by the ministry, so they won't be there."

Hermione shrugged, it felt good not to have to plan everything herself.

Draco offered his hand and Hermione held it tightly and squeezed her tired eyes closed. She opened them to a small brick house covered in ivy.

"It's lovely." Hermione breathed, her breath swirling around her in the cold. It felt so good to breathe fresh air again. But he was ushering her through the gate, up to a large front porch and through the red front door. As soon as the door closed behind them, Hermione took Draco's wand and performed the enchantments she'd come to know by heart. Then she walked through the house. There was no sign of struggle; everything was in its place. Draco had discovered the pantry was still full of food. He broke a loaf of bread and tossed half to her, already ruffling through the fridge. She took a bite, swallowed, and suddenly realized just how hungry she'd been. They spent the morning in the kitchen, bickering good naturedly over nothing. The food had put them both in a better mood. Feeling tired and happier than she had in months, she began looking for a place to collapse. She scanned the shelves and found The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Taking a seat in a large chair, she began to read over the story of the three brothers, though she probably already knew it well enough to recite it all by heart. The large old armchair reminded her of the Gryffindor common room and before she could finish the story, she'd fallen asleep.

She awoke to the sound of muffled sobs, kept her eyes closed and tried hard to ignore him. But she couldn't. She was awake again. She sat up and sighed, rubbed her eyes of sleep and looked at Draco, tossing and turning almost comically. His face was a deathly pale and shining with sweat in the moonlight. He was bawling now. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he cried out fitfully. She had to wake him.

His mother's body, convulsing in pain next to his dead father. "I'm sorry, my lord, I'll make it up to you, I-I can do better. I know I can, please my lord." She was hysterical, eyes wide and bloodstained. A mixture of drool and blood dripped down her chin. Her beautiful blonde curls were matted and soaked with blood. She was shaking and twitching and as He raised his wand, his cold, terrible hand tightened its grip around Draco's shoulder. Draco closed his eyes but he couldn't block out the screaming.

"Draco, wake up." Warm fingertips. His eyes snapped open. He sat up and blinked. Large and kind hazel eyes, still heavy from sleep, were peering at him unsurely. As her warm breath met his cheeks, he realized he'd been crying. He sat up, his hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to vomit. It was freezing. He would have moved her hand off his arm if he wasn't so bloody cold. She looked concerned, not a trace of hate or anger or anything else in her eyes. She was worried about him. He put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He felt her hand shift to his back. He couldn't stop shaking. To his mortification, he began to cry. Silent tears fell from his eyes landed with a dull thud on the carpet as he tried to clear the horrific images from his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize profusely to all those cool enough to favorite/comment on the first chapter of this story! I had saved the first four chapters of this story exclusively to my old computer, which died, taking the chapters with it. I have only just brung myself to rewrite them. Here is Ch. 2 (rewritten):**

**II. "And Then There Were Three"**

Hermione was not sure what to do. She prayed not to start crying herself, it was sad, seeing someone always so dignified and together completely fall apart, if not the hopelessness of her own situation. But in the last few months, soothing distraught teenage boys had become sort of second nature to her, so she leaned his head against her and tucked it between her shoulder and chin, trying to pretend it was Harry or Ron and not this person she so despised. She placed a hand on his head and hushed him. He must have been half-asleep or he surely would have objected.

When she awoke, she was alone and stiff. She stood up, stretched. "Malfoy?" She walked into the kitchen to find him hunched over the table. He looked up.

"What's the book, the ring, and the locket?" The parchment she'd hastily shoved into her pocket earlier was unfolded in his hands.

How was she going to account for this? "It's nothing, it's… code."

"What's the Three Brothers got to do with it?"

"Don't worry about it-could I have that back?" she made a grab for it, but Malfoy was too quick.

"Why?"

"Because it's mine." She burst out angrily. Malfoy grinned evilly.

"Have you gone mental, all alone with Potter and Weasel?"

"Give it back, Malfoy." she made a grab for it, but he was quicker.

"I don't think so Granger, you're going to explain this to me."

"No, I'm not. It's nothing to do with anything, and it's _mine_. You're only making our situation worse, you stupid, ignorant, evil-"

"I am not evil." He said, the grin faltering.

"You are, just like Him."

In an instant he had her pinned against the wall. It was the first time she appreciated fully just how much larger he had grown in the past year. "I am nothing, nothing like him, you don't know…anything." He released her and walked out.

"Then why bother saving me?" she called to his back, trying to keep her voice even; she was terrified.

He stopped walking. "You were exactly what He needed; we only had to wait for Potter to show up for you. And that would be the end…"

Hermione worked it out. If Harry and Ron came back for her, they would never get out alive and Voldemort would win. If Voldemort won, Draco would be killed for running away, a traitor. So he wanted, no, needed Voldemort to die as much as she did. And that meant keeping her alive. She realized this with a small sting of disappointment; she thought maybe Draco had rescued her…just to rescue her. It seemed silly now. Of course he had a reason.

"What's the difference?" she was crying again, "they don't know I'm safe now, we'll never find them."

Draco hadn't thought of that. "We will." He tried to sound confident. "Just…try and think of everywhere they could be…"

"I need that paper then."

Draco looked down at the paper and felt hopes plummet: Granger really was insane. He handed her the parchment and turned to go. "Malfoy, you mustn't ever repeat anything you read, to anyone."

He grunted a response.

Draco assumed she would bring up the night before sooner or later. She could never leave anything alone. But she didn't, she never even alluded to it. He didn't give her the chance. He wandered miserably around the tiny house like a caged animal. He picked through the couple's things mindlessly, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. A picture of the two hung over a fireplace in the bedroom. The man would whisper something in her ear occasionally and she would bring her hands up to her lips, covering a smile. He stared, transfixed, at the couple. They looked ridiculously happy. The drawers and closets were full of clothes. They hadn't had time- they were dead, Draco was sure. His hands began to shake again and he clenched his fists. The bed was unmade and a single book rested on the nightstand. He picked it up to examine it. "What to Expect: the First Year," he read aloud to himself…the first year…the first year of what? He let the book fall to the ground and stumbled backwards until he sank against the wall, trying to breathe steadily. He did this… to these people…or he could have. That was when he heard it. A small cry.

He stood up immediately, his heart hammering, and held his breath. It came again, from a room adjoining. It sounded like…it couldn't be…

The doors opened easily and behind them was a small and pleasant room; light blue stripes decorated the walls, a large stuffed bear sat in the corner, and a mobile hung over…a crib. The sound was coming from the crib. Fuck. He backed out of the room quickly and shut the doors behind him.

How long had these people been gone? "Granger," he ran downstairs, "Granger?" He was hyperventilating.

"What is it?" she muttered distractedly, staring into a mug of tea. He took her arm. "Hold on a mome-Stop!" she stumbled off the chair from the force of his tug. "Just…come on." He pulled her up and dragged her up the stairs and into the room where he'd been. "In there." He nodded at the doors he'd opened before. She glared at him angrily, rubbing her arm. "What's in there?" she asked skeptically.

"A baby."

Hermione looked incredulous. She pushed past him and through the doors, leaned over the crib; Draco stood watching nervously. The baby was in her arms now. She set it on its changing table and Draco watched her, dumbstruck, as she proceeded to change its diaper and find it fresh clothes, the baby screaming all the while. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. She began to hush it. "He's hungry," she pushed past him, rubbing soothing little circles on the baby's back. Draco was reminded briefly of the night before.

He followed her down the stairs dumbly. "What does it eat?"

"Hopefully baby formula." She muttered darkly.

She dug through the cabinets quickly, still holding the baby, but to no avail. "I…I don't know what to do." Her bottom lip began to quiver. Draco turned away. He didn't know what to do either and he didn't want to watch her cry. And then he thought of something.

"Couldn't you just…" he gestured awkwardly to his own chest.

She fixed him with a glare that would have made McGonagall proud. "It doesn't work like that." she snapped and then, completely defeated, "what are we going to do?"

"We're going to leave it somewhere."

"Everywhere safe is hidden."

"A muggle orphanage, then."

She sighed again, "I'm going upstairs."

Draco didn't look up. Just when he thought their situation couldn't get any more hopeless, now there was a child.

Hermione closed the doors to the baby's room and sat in the rocking chair. She looked down at the small, helpless life in her hands. The baby could not have been more than eight weeks old. He took his tiny hand and latched onto her hair. Then he yawned and curled into her. But he tossed and turned until he broke out crying again. Hermione sighed and thought about Draco's suggestion; it was impossible. It wouldn't work. She wondered how long it had been. The little food they'd discovered in the pantry seemed fresh enough. The baby whimpered and squirmed in her arms. Maybe, because she was a witch, if she willed it enough, magic would step in. At least she would try. Her hands quivered as she held the baby to her breast. The baby's small mouth fit around her nipple easily and he sucked with surprising force. It was slightly painful, still she willed milk to come. Night had fallen and the light in the room was soft and warm. Rain began to beat on the window pane. The baby broke away with a cry, frustrated and hungry. Hermione set his head gently in the crook of her neck and soothed him while tears streamed down her own cheeks. She was so stupid. As she set him back into his crib, she caught her reflection in the mirror. A small dark circle had appeared on her shirt. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and let out a sigh of relief. She pulled the baby out of bed, pulled her shirt open and held him to her chest.

Draco was getting nervous. Hermione had been up there by herself all day and it was almost midnight. When he came up to check, he found her sleeping on the bed, her body curled protectively around the child and the baby book splayed open at her side. He knew she would become attached to the child, fall in love with him. She was so naïve. He glared at her, trying to hate her. Her face was partially hidden by a mess of curls and her chest rose and fell slowly. She looked completely at peace. He wished he could sleep like that, but he'd given up. He'd resolved to stay up all night rather than subject himself to the horrors of his dreams.

A soft sound escaped her parted lips and she shifted slightly to reveal the gentle slope of her neck and her collarbone. He watched her pulse flutter against her skin lightly at the base of her neck. Her skin seemed to glow in the soft light. A bizarre and overwhelming urge to push her hair out of the way overtook him; he only caught himself after he extended his arm. He moved to turn the lamp off instead, leaning over her awkwardly. He swallowed something unfamiliar in his throat and quickly walked out, closing the door behind him.


End file.
